


Thanc the Stars

by VanityClock (icedSalamander)



Series: Eorzean Romance [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 2nd POV, Drabble, Guilt, Other, Trying to deal with emotions, angst? I think??, definatly not fluff, i think it's called survivors guilt but im not sure??, warning: wol is going thru emotions lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-08 11:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11645475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedSalamander/pseuds/VanityClock
Summary: Bonding time for the fragile relationship between WoL and Thancred written in absolutley no order.Unless stated otherwise, I'll try to keep WoL as neutral (race/class/gender-wise) as possible.probably more focused on emotions than any real development lmao





	1. I'm So Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> no plot i just needed to write something 
> 
> set sometime after Thancred returned and before final confrontation with WoD

The distance between the two of you is suffocating.

 

You're unsure if it's how the both of you are now practically back to being strangers again, barely any time to just sit down and talk like you used to before everything got out of hand, or how much you've changed over the course of.... a year? So much has happened between fleeing from Ul'dah to now. Maybe it's both, maybe it's something out of your control but the back part of your brain (and the majority of you, actually) is screaming how this is your fault - the distance, the failure upon failure you've gone thru since his return, everything and anything that has and had gone wrong since all of it has happened; since you've joined the Scions. And now you can only watch, with Thancreds back turned to you, in the warmth surrounding Mor Dhonas night time (it's not warm but you're not accostumed to anything above the freezing snow of Ishgard anymore) and you can't help but think back about how everything was diffrent. How this _could_  be diffrent. How much you  _both_ have changed in the span of too many days passing by for you to really care about. Part of you wants to reach out, just hold him and confirm with what you can feel with your skin that he's there,  _he really returned back from no where and everywhere and is just_ there, but the bigger part of you holds back, along with the tears, at the thought that he wouldn't want that. He wouldn't want to be near you, not after everything you've ~~(failed to do)~~ done. Minfilia isn't here anymore, thanks to you, and neither is Moenbryda and the Scions are barely holding on to continue the vague mission of theirs, to help those in need and fight Primals. So you settle looking at him from afar, noticing anything and everything you can, and try to convince yourself that  _it's enough. This is enough. Let him being alive and well be enough._ You don't deserve more than that. Not even if you somehow, miraculously, brought order back to this chaotic world.

But it isn't and that fact alone is killing you and it's so hard to breathe and all you want to do is cry with him holding you and telling you it'll be fine, everything is fine, you're alive, he's alive, and in the morning you'd set out to put an end to whatever it is that's doing this because you're the Warrior of Light and  _that's what you've always done and will always be doing._ You don't even notice the blanket on your shoulders until a sob escapes you.

"Not cold?" His eyes look down at you, past you, into you and you're struck thinking how you didn't notice him infront of you. Too weak from feeling emotions you just shook your head and looked down to the ground, trying to keep it all in.  _You're bothering him, get out of there now before it's too-_

A finger lifts your chin and you're stuck staring at his nose because the thought of looking in his eyes (his ever changing eyes - green, hazel, grey that never seem too look directly at you anymore) is terrifying and leaves you breathless in the worst way imagineable and you're more prepared to face Leviathan without a damned corrupted crystal or ship to hold you above water while taking on Garuda than to look at him directly in the eyes. He's silent and you can feel his eyes burning into you, as if searching for something in the depths of your soul and mind. You're unsure of what, and honestly, are terrified to find out so you opt on being quiet. This is the closest you've been to him, after all that has happened since he's returned and part of you is just depressed at that.

When it's clear that he  _isn't_ going to say something and is waiting for a reply other than a head shake, you take a deep breath and try to prepare your answer. "Ishgard is colder," the words feel sour in your mouth, it seems the Nation to the north is the only thing you can really bring yourself to talk about nowadays. He silent, just watching, maybe even waiting, not really moving for a moment before pulling on the blanket lightly, to make sure that it's covering you and isn't going to fall off or slide off your shoulder. You swallow, the tension almost too much to bare, "Nightmares?"  _by the gods, you sound_ pathetic. He shrugs, hands leaving you when he decides the blanket is secure enough on you and looks out to the wasteland full of crystals. Your gaze stays on his nose, too afraid that if you moved, he'd notice everything that is plaging you. "Just needed some time to think, is all," 

 _oh. Oh._ "....I'm sorry," _It's your fault. Your fault. All of it. Everything is wrong and you're the source of it._ Your gaze is on the floor again and you don't see him turning to look at you (almost puzzled). _Why do you even exists, if all you can manage to do is put everyone around you in misery and pain and suffering and-_  "What for?"  _Everything. For meeting me, for getting possesed, for loosing Minfilla, for getting stuck in the Wilderness while you covered for my run away. For failing you and everyone I know._ You couldn't find the strength to say anything for a moment - fear of loosing your emotions weighing heavily on you, and just shrug. Right now was not a moment to cry your heart out to him and just admit to it all, he's suffering just as much as you are and it's so _obvious_ even if he does try to cover it by being angry at things  _for you_. He says your name, like a question, once, twice - and you almost just escape into your haunting mind before he puts his hands on your shoulder and keeps you  _there._ In the present, that you don't want to be in, away from your thoughts, that you didn't want to hear. A sound breaks out of you (you don't know what, it's as if your ears are ignoring it) and you find yourself pressed against his chest, hands barely holding onto his shirt as you try, try,  _try,_ to keep put and silent and small as possible, try to stop shaking and the warmness in your eyes to tear out. Now is not the time for emotions,  _this life isn't the time for any emotions._  He doesn't deserves it, your emotions, because he's going thru enough already and to burden him with yours is just unacceptable by the highest decree. "I'm sorry," Your hands dig into him, you don't know if you're even hurting him or not, and you vaguley register his arms and hands winding up around your form and something just  _breaks_ , makes you just stop resisting the tears, let go of the ever present pressure in your throat and just  _cry_ , manners and etiquette your parents taught you when you were younger be damned. You repeat your words, without really thinking or knowing, to him over and over and over and he just holds you.

Why are you sorry? At this point, you don't know anymore and your brain can't bring up a reason for you to care about so you just hold him, even when all the tears are gone, while your crying. You don't notice how hard you're holding on to him (nor how hard he's holding on to you) as if he'd disappear and get erased off of existance if you let go, not until your body registers the pressure on you again and you find it hard to let go of him. (not ~~only~~ because you don't want to, but because it physically hurts to remove your fingers with how tightly they're wound up into his shirt)  _Great now you ruined his shirt._

You try (barely) to get your fingers off of him, but he's still holding on to you even when you managed to get them out and feel the ringing sensation pulsing thru them, "I'm sorry," Something rests against the top of your head and you angle your face around his chest so that it doesn't hurt as much and the way his hand is gently rubbing against your shoulder blades is pleasent enough for you to feel safe for a moment and forget that there is a ever present and evolving planet apart of this moment, that there are people who need help from you, from him or a world that needs saving. _This is enough_. Your eyes close and you feel him press you closer. A childish part of you tells you to try to wrap the blanket around him too (as far as it'll go) and you comply. You don't want to move, just stay like this forever, in his arms, burried in the warmth he's giving out.  _Let this be enough._ It isn't and the realization eats away at your heart.

 

"I'm sorry..."


	2. despairful worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after that clutch save at the end of ARR  
> (PS: I like to write WoL with heavy emotions and I havent played this game for almost 2 years now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Tags:  
> WoL mentioned to be healer

Thancreds eyes have yet to open since you've all managed to dispelled Lahabrea from him. The realization makes the little fire in you die a little more. Your eyes close and the feeling of his warm skin against your slightly colder ones somehow isn't enough to convince you that he's alive. That he's going to be fine and soon enough, he'd open his eyes and laugh and joke like he used to, before all of this.

Your head falls against his chest, your hands absentmindedly searching for his. You focus on his breathing (it's so shallow, it scares you), on his warmth.

Twelve, it had taken so many healers to stabilize him. Even with the Elder Seedseer and you helping, drained to the core trying to to help with the healing, his recovery process isn't as good as you wished it would be. You hadn't thought it'd be this bad, when you've taken him out of the Caestrum. Lahabrea was fine using his body - there was no sign to indicate any harm done to him and you've went the extra mile to try not damage him- so why is Thancred almost lifeless when you manage to get him back?! Your grip tghtens, tears well up. Your little fairies are just watching it all unfold, silently sitting near a long cold tea. Why does it feel so heavy ( _why does everything feel so, so damned heavy now)_?

 You can't recall ever being a disrespectful child, can't recall angering the Twelve (You're _chosen_ by _the Mother_ , after all!), so why you deserve this fate is an enigma for the centuries. 

Besides yourself, him, Eos and Selene, there is no one, and despite the fae not breathing, it feels like there is not enough air in here. The room is too small, there is no open window - Breathe, breathe, breathe, it wouldn't do Thancred good if he was to wake up to your half rotting corpse. Breathe. Slowly. Your hand is fumbling around too much with his, mind too focused on your own doom and gloom to notice anything else.

So when Minifillas hand touches your shoulder, you jump in fright and turn around. She only smiles at you sadly. (It  _must_ be a sad sight, the great Hero and Warrior reduced to ... this). "You haven't drank your tea," she starts, voice trailing off. No, you shake your head. Her shoulders sag with your confirmation, but she doesn't sigh, doesn't say anything. It's silent except for the footsteps. "We're all worried, you know," a window opens, but she doesn't turn back to look at you. You  _don't_ want her to look at you, so you look down at your hand grasping onto Thancreds, "Not just about him. But you, too." you don't look up, but the world feels heavier. "I'm fine." is all that you can bring yourself to say. You might be reduced to whatever this state is, but you won't cry, dammit - Not when someone can actually see it-!  
  
You hear her approach, but there is still an armslenght of distance between you two. She says your name, delicatly. You can't look. Not right now, anyways. "He's important to me, too," she starts, her voice sounds lighter by force, "He's like.... a Father I never had... always there for me when no one else could be, and I think I failed him when he went missing... I blamed myself for what Lahabrea had done, I'm sure you do, too..." You close your eyes, "I could have stopped it." a short sentence, but it feels like someone punched you to say that. Minfilla was silent. (She's blaming you, you idiot. She knows you could have stopped it, why would you -) "How would you have done that?" slowly you look up. She is still smiling that sad smile, but from this angle it feels like shes taking pity on you. You're too drained to care about that. "We all knew he wasn't really himself, we all had suspicions, and yet..."  
  


You move your free hand around - if only you had  _been_ there, instead of missions, to care and guide him back, if only you weren't so busy...!  
Words seem to fail you alot these days. So you let your hand fall, inpart when you realized you're trying to put the blame on her. She's not at fault, neither are you (but are you really sure about that, great Hero?), nor the others.

 

Footsteps, but the go past you, "He will wake up in time, especially in your attentive care," the teacup clinks against the small plate when she lifts them up, "but you shouldn't neglect yourself for him either, he wouldn't want you to do that to yourself." A brief hand rests on your shoulder when she walks past you.  
  
No, he wouldn't want that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> headcanon:  
> I always thought that in terms of story, WoL is wielding all the souls at once, like a literal one person army. So they can be all the tanks, dps and healers at once. ik theres probably canon lore that states otherwise but ehhhh. In this instance shes using both white mage and scholar souls
> 
> \----------
> 
> I've been meaning to write this for a while now, just never got around to putting it into words
> 
> \----------  
> Edit, one year later: I totally forgot I made this holy sh i t i m so r r y.   
> So above i mentioned i dont play ff14 anymore and its not cause i dont love the game still (i do i really do) but its because im still stuck at that fucking boss fight and i dont feel its worth to invest 20€ a month in a game i cant process because it keeps forcing down multiplay content down my throat and everyone quitting after one wipe because something isnt going their way (Its a mmorpg, i do realise that orz)  
> If Square ever decides to release FF14 as a single player game, i would waste all my savings to get it tbh

**Author's Note:**

> I can't get passed the first trial in stormblood and i need some comfort ahhhhhhhhhh  
> no plot, no reason  
> im sorry lmao this just keeps going on and on and on and on and o
> 
>  
> 
> honestly headcanon WoL as someone who doesn't really know how to handle emotions and is someone who blames themselves if they fail to do something because of because they're held onto a pedestal as the saviour of the world despite their passivness in the earlier part of the game and in ARR they barely display emotions and only around the time in Ishgard seems to be struggling to keep it all in and displays like a whole rainbow of feelings that arent just smiles, frowns and a nod. Maybe im just projecting onto WoL but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
